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Mt. Vernon Republican (Mount Vernon, Ohio : 1854), 1855-08-07

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OFFICE-Sonth-west end )" Kremlin Block, 2d floor, ' f, 'IF A FREE THOUGHT SEEK EXPRESSION, SPEAK IT ROLDLY---SPIAK IT ALL." TEajffS $2 GO per Annua. -V If paid in Advtnca, vol: 1 MOUNT VERNON, OHIO, TUESDAY. MORNING, AUGUST 7, 1855. NO, 38. THE MOUNT VERM REPUBLICAN EVERY TUESDAY MORNING, BY TBI i Rprmrilienn . Prlnflnflf fnmnnnv. ' Incorporated under tkt Genet al Law. TERMS. Tu Advance $3,60; within ix months, (3,25 ; after the expiration of nix month, 3,50; after the end of the year, $3 00. Subscriber in town, receiving their papers by carriert will be charged I2j cents additional. ,'. , Olubi often, $1,75 to be paid Invariably In ' advance.'-. All communicationi for the paper and bulled! letter should be add retted to THO. WITHROW, ' " ' ' Secretary of the Republican Printing Co. 1 m a Iffy lost Youth: Often I think of the beautiful town . That is seated by the sea ; Often in thought go up and down The pleasant streets of that dear old town, And my youth comes back to me. ' And a verse of a Lapland song ' Is haunting my memory still, "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts. I can see the shsdowy lines of its trees, 1-And catch, in sudden gleams, , The sheen of the far surrounding seas, And islands that were tho Hesperides Of all my boyish dreams. Aud the burden of that old song, ' It murmurs and whispers still : "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." I remember the black wharves and the slips, And the sea-tides tossing free ; And Spanish sailors witll bearded lips, A 'id the the beauty and mjstery of the ships, And the magic of the sea. And the voice of that wayward song 1 Is singing and saying still : " A boy s will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.', I remember the bulwarks by the shore, ' And the fort upon the hill ; The sunrise gun, with its hollow roar, 1 . The drum-beat repeated o'er and o'er, . . And the bugle wild and shrill. And music of that old song Throbs in my memory still ; "A boy's will is the wind's will, . , And the thoughts of youth are long, long ( thoughts- j ( , , 1 remember the sea fight far away, How it thundered o er the tide I : And the dead captains, as they lay ' .. In their graves, o'erlooking the tranquil bay, Where they in battle died. And the sound of that.monrnful song 1 - Goes through me with a thrill i . 1 A boy's will is the wind's will,-. And the thoughts of youth, are long, long ,. ; thoughts." ,, . J can see the breei'y dome of groves, i . . - The shadows of Deeriog's woods;-.- And the friendship old and 'he early loves-' Come back with a Sabbath sound, as of doves In quiet neighborhoods. And the verse of that sweet old song, It flutters and murmurs still: ' "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." , ! . I remember the gleams and glooms that dart Across the schoolboy's brain ; The song and the silence in the heart, ' That in part are prophecies, and in part Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song Sings on, and is never still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long . thoughts.". There are things of which 1 may not speak ; There are dreams that cannot die : There are thoughts that make the strong heart .weak,' . And bringing a pallor iuto the cheek, And a mist before the eye. And the words of that fatal song Come o'er mo like a chill . " A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughis." Strange to me now are the forms I meet When I visit the dear old town; . ' But the native air is pure and sweet, And the trees that o'ershadow each well-known street, ' As they balance up and down, . Are singing the beautiful song, Are sighing and whispering s'ill : . "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughis of youth are long, long thoughts." And Deeriog's Woods are fresh and fair, ... . And with joy that is almost pain .,, i My heart goes back to wander there, ' ; And among the dreams of the days that were, I find my lost youth again. - - - And the strange and beautiful song, -. i The groves are repeating it still 1 ' "A boy's will is the wind's will, ' And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts. i . Move On. The march of life should never stay All things should onward tend j ' Men should nut elog progression's way, : But strive to move and mend. . . The waters move in the depths of ocean, The streams along the dales, . ' And rivulets with onward motica, Through tweet and verdant vales i 1 . ,. . , Moveonl .. ' The clouds' move gently through the sky,L ' ' ' 1 The earth rolls ever on ; . " i Time swiftly in its course runs by, .' And years pass one by one. , Men, too, should strive to follow them, In this their onward way, . . , Permitting naught the tide to stem; 1 t But ever, day by day - . , --j ,lM j.; , ,'.; .. Moveonl ; .: J- f : ! ' 1 ! , Men may be wiser, if they strive-More virtuous if they will . " And who. witbfi this world, would thrive, ; Must aim at higher stUll - ,, , - Let bigots aland by dootrines old! ' The wise will pass tbetn by ; .' ' ' ' Weak minds may cling with subtle Bold," " But strong ones valiantly : - ' '' ,.:..;- ' Move on !,:. ' ' ' ,- .-,'. . '. ( n-u-.4 Like waters rolling tooths ocean, . r ?. Down mountain nilt on hiirh .' . . , Like clouds forever in commotion' ' ' That move across the sky ' u -1 We wilj forever onward press, , I t i. Thns fetterless and free : And deemhtg virtue, happiness; Our watchword ever be ' , ' ' ' "' vl'v ' -( '-' '( t r.i W. When piece of rood fortane b- falls me,' I inslanUy look for tie reverse cf tb medal.X'sitxy. -' ' ' ; . Th(j itjt Mftrriag: 'A group of girls were collected round tlie door of nn isba, or log-hut, in the village of Oorly, belonging; to General Pe trovioff. : They were all dressed in the national costume of the government of Toula, consisting of a long white gownover which they wore a plaid worsted tunic, short and narrow, while a low bodice, with narrow shoulder-straps, confined a loose puffed chemise. Their hair was cor ibed off the face in one long plait, from which hung a profusion of ribbons of all colors down their backs; a quantity of bright-colored glass beads hung on each side of their faces, and round their necks ; these formed the more ornamental items of their dress, iwhtch was otherwise 'only completed by a very tnica ana serviceaoie pair oi leatnern shoes. By the earnestness of th?ir gestures and the apparent interest of their conversation, it was very easy to see something unpleasant had lately occurred. After a little time, they all dispersed except two, who remained at the door of the hut spinning, belweett whom the following conversation took place : 1 ' ' " Nadeedn,' dost thou really bclievo the master will oblige one of us girls to marry that ugly, ill-tempered lellow, KttT What possible inducement is there? He pos sesses neither horse nor cow ; his isba is in the worst condition of any in the Village; and beside his own devilish propensities that are only safely to be encountered when one makes the holy sign and prays to St. Sergius he has his old witch of a grandmother, and his bedridden mother, for his wife to work and care for. No ; most cer tainly not one of us girls will consent to have him. " As to that, Katinka, thou sayest true ; but from what I heard my father say yes terday, the master is determined none of the strong hard-working lads are to be sent as soldiers ; and, as thou well knowest, while single they are all liable to be taken as recruits." " Tell me again," said the first speaker, " what said thy father. Unfortunately this news comes from good authority; who should know belter than the sarosta what is doing in the village ?" "I'll gladly tell thee all I know," re plied the sarosta's daughter. " Last night, when my lamer came borne, be tola us that Borisoff, the land-steward, had re ceived letters from our master, telling him that all the tamtly are coming here imme diately to spend a year. Owing to some severe losses sustained at cards, his excel lency comes down to live quiet and econo muse. Several oi the tree servants are discharged ; and for fear any of the good bands should be. taken by the recruiting party, be has sent orders they shall . all marry. .Now, Peter, the blacksmith, is be trothed to Nadine, and they will be glad enough to get the wedding over. Paul has received, the same orders; and I know more than one girl who would not refuse him. mi, Katioka, why blushest thou 7 " Hold thy nonsense, Nadegda, and finish thy story; this is no joking matter." "Well, the end is this, dusha mia (my soul.) As to the other lads, they are well enough off to buy themselves wives from the crown villages ; but who Kit will find I know not, for his teputation of casting the Evil Eye is well known hereabouts, and, besides, dreadful things are told of his family." ' " For Heaven's sake, do not talk more about him," said Katinka,' turning towards the church, and signing herself devoutly ; " I shall dread going to .sleep to night for fear of bad dreams. But thou, happy Nadegda, thou hast no fear of being forced to marry against thy will ; thy father, being the sarosta, will be able to screen thee ; but what say I ? Perhaps thou also lovest one of the lads now about to marry. Confess art thou also betrothed?" " Oh, Katinka, think not of it ; it would be no worse for me to marry Kit than any other lad in the village. I love yes ; but not one in my own station a free man. Dost thou remember Vladimir, the master's handsome Moscow coachman ? ' Well, he, God bless him 1 has promised to buy my freedom, and marry me. lie fore Aiadeg-da had well done speaking, her companion burst into a fit of laughter. "And art thou 'fool enough to believe mm. i -. w oy aid lie not marry tnee at once, instead of putting it off ?" . " Because my master asked a high price lor my.ireeaom, more than Vladimir then possessed," answered Nadecda : "'and al so because my father could not then give me tne aowry viaaimur required, for, re member, when I am his wife I shall no longer wear the village dress. I am to have I fur cloak, two silk dresses, besides a feather-bed and linen.' Father ha saved up three hundred roubles in money for us:" and as the young girl spoke, she drew herself up with all the pride of a serf about to oecome tree. '.i . : ' ' . . j :-.-. They bad caijelv resumed their snin ning-wheels, when the sound of post -bells in me distance reached their ears." Mou-jiks were running in all directions) crying, " Here comes the master 1" and aa the carriages approached nearer, they all uncovered their heads, and assisted to push the heavy equipages Bp the steep hill leading to the bouse ; several girls standing near also bowed (heir heads to the grodnd, saying, " Welcome, father and master. " Welcome, my mistresses, among your own people; : May the Lord bless your high nobility V' : t ,' i, l-, i f .' .; As the General descended, he bowed to all around, ' and extended his hand for those nearest him to kiss. The ladies stopped also to speak kindly to sons of the women and children,' and their hands were also covered with kisses.' As they passed into the house, thei peasant separated to their respective homes. Nadegda alone remained loitering about until late, but she had a companion who Stopped to talk; with her as he passed and repassed J nayt more, once was he actually seen to kiss her. '-The serf-girl was happy Vladimir, was Ve. ' r .y' - 'i i .7 I !r. (ti' The sarosta is an old peasant, of a somewhat sooerior station, nut nr th ntWi In -drive them tc their, work, and to see ths orders 5 the land-stswsrd punctually carried out., :, , That evening Borisoff was closeted for some hours with tbe Uenerai ; ana w Den he left him, the expression of his face was somewhat discomposed and ruffled. The subject of their conference will be learned in the seaiiel. ' Early the next morning,' Borisoff sent lor the sarosta, nadegda s lamer, ana, niter irlvinsr him orders for the day's work, addressed him thus : " Sarosta, bast thou attended to the orders I p-ave thee respect ing the young men's marriages, those named on his excellency's list ? If not, see to it without loss of time, for tby master baa had great losses, and needs all the good workmen ; and, what is more, his temper is not improved under the circumstances, and the lads will be worked all the harder, I promise thee." ' ' ' " Your honor will be pleased to hear," replied the old man, " that I have arranged that matter as well as possible. 'All the lads will be mated this week, except that surly fellow Kit, who, ns your honor knows, is no favorite in the village, and not one of the wenches will consent to have him. - Indeed, I pity the poor thing who would have to wait upon his old folks, who are no better than they should be, if all ia true that one bears." - " As to that, sarosta, thou must arrange it as best thou canst ; it is as much as my place is worth to tell tbe General his commands have not been obeyed. ' Remember, thou hast now received the order, and it rests entirely with thee. Hast thou held out any reward to the girls ? Or, if that does not have the desired effect, hast thou promised tbem a flogging all round ? See what that would do." "I fear, your honor," resumed the sarosta, "it would be of no avail ; for it is the belief of them all that Kit throws the Evil Eye, and even the little children run and hide from him as he comes up the village. However, I will certainly do my best." . On their return from work, the sarosta assembled all the girls, and tried in vain the powers of persuasion and threatenings. Kit was supposed to have something devilish about him ; and as the sarosta himself shared in the superstition, he determined to lay the case befoie his master, although not without fear of the consequences. The next morning, as the General sat in his elegantly furnished study, smoking a troupkat, the sarosta was announced.- General Petrovioff ordered him to be ad mit'ed immediately. The old man entered, and, first turning to the picture hanging in the room, crossed himself devoutly, then bowed low to his master. Tbe General returned the salutation, and then bade him make known his business, " Your high nobiiity deigned to order, a day or two ago, that certain of your peas ants were to marry, on account of recruits being taken this summer. - Your excellen cv's commands have been obeyed in all re specls save one, for -which -I humbly beg pardon. Kit, as your excellency doubtless remembers, was always a strange surly fel low." " But a good and steady workman," in terrupted the master. Tbe sarosta proceeded : " None of the wenches relish the idea of being his wife ; and, indeed, to be plain with your high nobility, they one and all refuse to have anything to do with him. Perhaps your excellency would be pleased to countermand the order, and let him join the recruiting party. The whole village would rejoice to be rid of him." " Old fool 1" exclaimed the Uenerai, '' Dost thou think I am going to part with one of my best hands because you ignorant dogs think he is bewitched ? Since when have the sluts dared to have a will of their own ? It is high time, indeed, I come among you, to teach you your master's authority I Go, old dog ; I'll see be gets a wife. The she-devils shall draw lots for him, and thy daughter into Ihe bargain, to punish thee for thy disobedience ; and think thyself well off that I send not for a bundle of rods for thee, ' Begone, dog, or I will strike thee to tbe earth?" So raved the General in his anger at being thwarted ; the old sarosta, trembling' and silent, bowed and left the room. ' Borisoff, the land-steward, Vas next sent for. and ordered to collect, the next morn ing, all the girls above the age of eighteen. " And mind," added the general, " they are all forthcoming the more the merrier. It will be quite an event in the village, drawing lots for a husband." At the hour specified next day, all the maidens were to be seen slowly making their way to the house.' The sarosta had hard work to make them advance, for they were all more or less terrified at the idea of Kit falling to their share But none of them looked so pale as poor Nadegda ; only the night before, everything had been settled for the nurchase of her freedom. She reilly loved Vladimir, and was beloved by him. Occasionally, she raised her eyes lose if she could catch sight of him ; but he, poor fellow, was not there ; although free nimseu, ne a area not to aispute me ngots of the slaveholder. , .- In rain did the sarosta expostulate, and try to console the poor girl by telling her now many cnances mere were in ner laror ; but Nrfdegda seemed to be weighed down by a presentiment of evil, and cried bitter ly i " Ob I why was I born ? Oh I why did I not die before this hour of misery ?" As they approached, the General stepped out, upon the balcony, followed by the wretched and unpopular Kit. , No sooner did they perceive the latter than tbe girls began calling him every horrid name they could , think of j but Nadegda she had fainted. , . They were placed in rows in front of the balcony, and tlornou presented tbe General with a batoontaing the fifty pieces or paper, amongst which was the one with the fatal cross marked on iu The General stood on the steps of the balcony, and, desiring that none should open her paper until tbe hit was emptied, the ceremony began. , One by one, the, trembling girls made the sign, of the cross,, then thrust in her hand and drew out a paper. . All were taken, one only remained, and Nadegda alone was left to take it; she approached, faintly and feebly, supported by her father.' 'But while in the. act of extending her hand to draw the lot, her father btigan to speak.'1 "Silence r roared the Gener.l, "Un fold your papers," .. AS they did so, they scrtsmed with de; ' light ' " It Is not I P' It is not 1 1" and threw themselves with their faces on the ground, to thank the saints for their protection. , In the midst of this general re-joioing, a piercing shriek was heard which made them all slmddcr ; it came from the unfortunate Nadegda. She had drawn the fatal cross a cross which must be borne, as such washe will of her. earthly master.' " ' ' ',. She threw henelf at the General's feet, and in most imploring acoents besought him ! "Father have mercy upon mel Master, do with me what thou wilt ; make me work night, and day ; put me in the meanest office ; and I . will not complain : but I cannot marry hira I" and she pointed to Kit. " Beat me, master; kill me if you will, and 1 would thank you on my knees ; but think of . what you re doing. Remem ber, ,1 am '.y Betrothed, she would have added; but the general roared out with rage : " Take ber away I take ber away I" And turning to the sarosta : " Teach your daughter to behave herself in future, and not to have such high-flown ideas. Mind, I will have the wedding over by to-night." So saying, he turned away ; the old man lifted up bis fair daughter in his arms and carried her away without a word ; he dared not remonstrate or revolt. The same evening, Nadegda heretofore the pride and beauty of the village, but now pale, cold and automaton-like was married to Kit, the general himself witnessing the ceremony. When it was over, he turned to the husband : " Well, my lad, if the girls would not have thee of their own tree will, thou mayest at least thank thy master ' for theprettiest lass- in the whole village." There was no merry-making at that wedding; the peasants returned to their homes with beavy and resentful hearts , but not one slept that bight until they had implored the blessings ot the saints on the untortunate JNadegda. that day-week, the general took a drive through his domains. The driver, as usu al, was Vladimir, the Moscow coachman, a man so skilled in bis business, so careful, so conscientious, that when the reins were in his hands such a thing as an accident was unknown. Un that day, tbe disap pointed bridegroom, it may be supposed, was not exactly as happy as when talking to poor Nadegda about their marriage. At any rate, it was noticed that he was death ly pale, and that his features had a hard, rigid, stony look; but perhaps this was fancy. - It may be that his feelings were not the more agreeable from the sight of Kit s isba as be drove past, and from the pale, woe be gone face in the interior that at the view flittted across his imagination like a spectre.' Whether this spectre con tinued to haunt him during the drive, and to glide and float above the horses' heads so as to dazzle and mislead his vision, no man knows. The only thing that is cer tain is, mat tbe carriage was. upset, and the general, with some difficulty extricated from the shattered veliicle, mortally hurt. He survived only a few hours, and then he died in great agony. Just before he breathed his last he murmured : " He has cast the Evil Eye on me ;" but no one understood what he meant. Chambers' $ Journal. ' The West Point Chain. Bishop's derrick has been employed for some time past in attempts to recover the massive chain which was stretched across tbe Hudson river at West Point, during the Revolution, to prevent the passage of tsriiisti vessels above that place. The Newsburgh Telegraph contains an article showing what are the results attained. It says : , Two distinct chain impediments were thrown across the river ; the first being a simple massive chain which was placed across the river in the vicinity of Fort Mon-gomery before the passage of the British fleet up the river, and which was broken and recovered ; ana tne second chains of different construction which were placed at West Point after the return of the British fleet, and through which a passage was never subsequently attempted, The history of these chains is somewhat obscured ', but the success which has attended the operations of Bishop's derrick, has discovered some interesting facts on the subject. The first thing raised from the bottom of the river by.tbe derrick was a portion of the chains and floats composing the last obstruction, embracing nine of the massive links and connections, and two of the floats to which Ihe chain was attach ed. This recovery shows the precise man ner of the construction of this chain ob struclion, which hns never been historically written. The obstruction consisted of two chains across the river, connected with the bank by four other massive chains, two on each side. Tbe chains across the river were supported by logs or floats about two feet in diameter and nineteen feet long, with three links of the chain at each end, between the floats. A rope ladder present the idea of the manner in which-the ob struction was made, better, probably, than any thing else. The Weight of the chains must have been immense, a the links now, although the action of the water for seventy years has corroded and worn them away, are about two inches square in the bars. The links are about 18 inches long and 8 inches broad, and are secured to the floats by heavy iron collars around the ends. The weight, of the Chains the historical idea is chain mut have been something like 150,000 pounds, independent of the floats. . This calculation is based on the statement of Mr. 8imms, above referred to, that each link averaged 1021 lbs., and that 1,700 feet of chain would be required'at each end of the floats. , ; .,i -. r The prospect of recovering any consid erable portion of the chains is tot very flattering, . The portion bow recovered was close in shore, but the great depth of water id tbe channel, (180 feet,) weald seem to render further efforts useless.-. . The portions of the. chains and floats re covered have been purchased by Mr. Carter, and deposited in. ths Head Quarters House, where tbey may be examined. They are the greatest cunosities which we have ever bad brought to our attention.! A Short BUry with a Moral, ... ' BT BLUM 0. H0BBS. v ' " Honor thy father and thy mother," ii the first commandment with promise- promise as beautifil in Its exemplification as glorious in its conception. A mother's lips first breathed iito our ears these words of Holy Writ, and explained their general import ; and from the time when the story of gray-haired Elijah and his youth- iui mockers erst eiolted my imagination, the respect then inspired for the white hairs of age, has grown with my growth and strengthened with my strength. We sigh as we think of the days when the young were wont to bow before the hoary head, and by gentle, uncalled-for assiduities, strew roses in the old man't'tottering pain. ( i .- . l ' But these kindly customs of our Puri tan ancestors have passed away. The world grows selfish as it grows old : and age-dimmed eyes must turn homeward for stays to their trembling hands and tottering limbs. Here they should find the ful filment of the first commandment with promt:. ' No true, womanly soul,1 ever withdrew her gentle hand from her poor old father, or mother ; no manly heart ever forgot the hoine loves of his wayward childhood, or ceased tc hear the echoes of a fond mother's Sprayers. Often the cares of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, may choke up the inborn affections of narrow souls ; but few and far between is the fondly loved child, who can be so untrue to himself or his Maker, as wholly to forget the mother who bore him. 1 Yet even with the holiest dictates of our reasons and souls, as with the wider ap plication of tbe commandment, bas Fashion insinuated her poisonous' influence ; and the son, per chance, who left his fond parent's humble home reluctantly and tearfully, to make bis way in the world, forgets, when fortune favors, to welcom, his rustic mother to his own luxury, with the same cordial embrace with which he left her in his childhood home. Her dim old eyes, perchance, do not catch readily the meaningless courtesies of life, nevertheless, they look none the less lovingly upon her child than when they watched over his helpless infancy. Her withered hands may be large and bony, and never have known a jewel ; but none the less gently did they smooth the weary pillow, or bathe the heated brow, in the dependent days of boyhood. Ah I she's the same fond mother still; her age and work-bent form, clad in rustic garb, conceals a heart full of never dying love, and ready for a new sacrifice. , And, thanks to the Great Being who gave us the commandment with promise, now and then there stands up a noble man, true to his inborn nature, who, throwing off the trammels of Fashion, however wide the gulf which separates him, in the world's eye, from the humble poverty of his boyhood who is not ashamed to love, before his fellows, the humble mother who gave him birth. . ,. " My Mother, permit me to present her to you," said an elegantly-dressed, noble-looking young man, to a friend, for whom he had crossed a erowded drawing room, with his aged parent leaning on his arm. There was a : dead silence for full five minutes. The moral beauty of the picture pervaded every soul, and melted away the frost-work from world-worn hearts. 'Twas the old foreground of a fashionable summer resort, whither hosts had come, with all their selfish passions, to seek in vain for health and pleasure. But here was a variation a bit of truth to nature in the motley mingling of colors. ' From a little brown farm-house, pentijin by forests, away up in the Granite State, the .young man had gone forth, with brave heart and stalwart arm ; strong, like his native hills, he had already made a name for himself. Polished circles opened for him, and gentle lips bade him welcome. Yet none the less carefully did his manly arm support his homely, (ottering old mother ; none the less softly and tenderly did he call her, queer though she looked, "my mother," amongst the proud beauties who had striven for his favor. Her dress was antiquated, for the good gifts of her son had been mutilated by rustic hands ; yet only one heartless girl tittered, despite the broad frilled cap and well-kept shawl. Her voice was rough, and often her ex pressions coarse and inelegant. Used to, the social mug at home, she asked for her neighbor's goblet at table, and was guilty of many like vulgarities. She was not an interesting woman, save in her vigorous age, and her beautiful , love 'for her son. -Yet, for a week, the son watched over that mother, and gained, for her kindness and deference, in the very face of fashion; walked with her, drove - with her, helped her, like an infant, up a difficult mountain side of twenty miles, humored her every caprice, and each day found some new friend, whose heart he might thrill by those gentle words, " my mother." To him she was the gentle mother, who rocked hira to sleep in childhood ; and true to the great commandment she had taught him, he was making ths path smooth for her dependent years. .. On there was in the gay throng, whose eyes flashed haughtily, as they rested on the homely, toil-worn woman, but she was a noble soul, and truth and right gained an instant victory over life long prejudices. Quietly and elegantly he orossed the room, laid ber snowy hand,, with such a gentle, thrilling touoli, on the arm of her lover, and'whispered a word in his ear. . Will she ever forget the look of love-triumph in his eyes, or the smiling gentleness of his tones, as he presented his beautiful, high-bred betrothed, to his gray-haired, doting mother ? 'Twas a holy sight that of polished, glowing beauty, grasping the hand of wrinkled, homely, When rammer and summer guests had gone many a one remembered and watched that young man, whose filial devotion had in it amoral sublimity, i And surely to him the eommandment proved with promise.- 7rA rapid mind continually struggles the feeble one limps, bat a great mind se lects the surest points, and upon these it stands.--Aotlay. , (. . , , . 0tlect iltisccllanii. ; The Old Charon-Yard Tree. : There is an old yew tree whioh stands by the wall in a dark, quiet corner of a church-yard. And a child was at play beneath its wide-spreading brandies, one bne day in the early spring. He had his lap full of flowers, whioh the fields and lanes had supplied hira with, and be was humming a tune to himself as he wove them into garlands. And a little girl at play among the tomb stones crept near to listen ; but the boy was so intent upon his garland, that he did not hear the gentle footsteps, as they tread softly over the fresh green grass. When his work was finished,- and tail the flowes that were in his lap were woven together in one long wreath, ha started up to measure its length upon the ground, and then he saw the little girl as she stood with ber eyes fixed upon him. He did not speak ; but thought to himself that she looked very beautiful, ns she stood there with her flaxen ringlets hanging upon her neck. The little girl was so startled by this sudden movement, that she let fall all the flowers she had colleoted in her apron, and ran away as fast as she could. But the boy was older and taller than she, and soon caught her, and coaxed her W come back and play with him, and help him to make some garlands ; and from that time they raw each other nearly every day, and became great friends. Twenty years passed away. Again he was seated beneath the old yew tree in the church-yard. It was summer now ; bright beautiful summer, with the birds singing, and the flowers covering the ground, tfud scenting tbe air with their pertume. But be was not alone now, nor din the little girl steal near on tiptoes, fearful of being beard, bbe was seated by bis side, and his arm was around her and she look ed up into his face, and smiled, as she whispered, " the first evening of our lives we were ever together was passed here ; we will spend the first evening of our wed ded life in the same quiet, happy place." And she drew closer to him as she spoke. The summer is gone ; and the autumn ; and twenty more summers and autumns have passed away since that evening, in the old church-yard. A young man on a bright moonlight night, comes reeling through the little while gate, and stumbling over the graves. He shouts, and h6 sings, and is presently fol lowed by others like unte bimself or worse. So they all laughed at the dark solemn head of the yew tree, and threw stones up at the place where the moon has silvered the boughs. Those same boughs are again silvered by the moon, and they droop over the mother's grave. There is a little stone whioh bears this inscription : ' . " HSB HBART BBOKB IH SILENCE." But the silence of the churoh-yard is now broken by a voice not one of the youth nor a voice of laughter and ribaldry. , " My son I dost thou see this grave ? and dost thou read the record in anguish, whereof may come repentance ?" " Of what should I repent ?" answered the son ; " and why should my young ambition for fame relax in its strength because my mother was old and weak ?" " Is this indeed our son ?" says the father, bending in agony over the grave of his beloved. ' ' ' " I can well believe I am not," exclaim-eth the youth. " It is well that you have brought me here to say so. Our natures are unlike ; our courses must be opposite. Your way lieth here mine yonder !" So the son left the father kneeling by the grave. Again a few years have passed. It is winter, with a roaring wind and a thick heavy fog. The graves in the church-yard are covered with snow, and there are great icicles in the church-porch. The wind now carries a swath of snow along the tops of the graves, as though the " sheeted dead" were at some melancholy play : and hark t the icicles fall with a crash and jin gle, like a solemn mockery of the echo of tbe unseemly mirth ot one who is now coming to his final rest. ' There are two graves near the old yew tree and the grass has overgrown them. A third is close by ; and the dark earth' at each side has just been thrown up. The bearers come ; with a heavy pace they move alon; the coffin heaveth up and down, as tbey step over the intervening graves. ;-.r.r : . -'J, .1 ; Grief and old ago had seised upon the father, and worn-out his life ; and premature decay soon seised upon the son, and gnawed away his vain ambition,, and his useless strength, till be prayed to be borne. not the way yonder that n most opposite to his father and mother, but even the same way they had gone the way which leads to tbe Uld Uhurch. yard Tree. Dick tn'i Iloutthold Word. Ihoividuai, Rbspobsibilitt. The moment a man parts with moral independence the moment he judges of duty, not from the inward voice, but from the interest and will of party, the moment he commits bimself to a . leader or a body, and winks at evil because divisions would hurt the cause, the moment he shakes off his particular responsibility, because he is but one of a thousand or a million, by whom the evil is done that moment he parts with his moral power. ' He is shorn of the energy of siugle-hearted faith in the right and the true. He hopes from nan's policy what nothing but loyalty to God can accomplish; He substitutes coarse weapons, forged by man's wisdom, for celestial power.-Chan- a7- .'i -v ' v'-! i , ' 1 . - i .... It is stated, as a curious fact, that th Queen of England is, now the terr-pora' monarch of more Roman Catholics than the Pope, and of more Musulmen than the Porte. . , , - ; ., - 'Watch, Kether." ". , ' -V ' Bother! watch the little feet ,; "'' " ' Climbing o'er th gsrdon wall, Bounding through the busy street, '' Banging cellar, shed, and ball, ' - 1 ' Sever count the moments loet, ' Vever mind the time it eoats ; '", ''' 1 Little feet will go astray. Guide then, mother, while you miy, Mother 1 watch the little a-smd Picking berries by tbe way, '' " Making bosses rn tbe sand, Tossing sp the fragrant hay. " ' Never dare the question ask, ri-" Why to nte this weary task't" '' ' These same little sands may prove Messengers of light and love, .; Mother I watch- the little tongue Prattling eloquent and wild, ' -'' ' Wbat ia said, and what is sung, ' -' ' By the happy, jwyousehild. " -CR(ch the word, white yet unspoken, - fttop the vow before 'tis broken ;-This same tongue nay yet proolainf ;t ' ' Bleasings in a Saviour's name. , , - 6. ....... . .... ., ,,(' Mother T watch the little heart " Beatinssoft and warm for you ; ' ' 1 Wholesome lessons now impart, ! ' Keep, 0 keep, that young heart trow. Extricating every weid, Sowing good and preeions seed j '.-Harvest rich too then may aee. Ripening for eternity.' - i-Heme Journal. ... The Toledo War. Among the remembrances of the past which the old settlers delight to recite to the rising generation, the most pleasing of them all is the history of the Toledo War. Probably no contest so bloodless in its results has ever secured for State such important advantages as did that violent war of words. Anc yet by most the recollection of it is gone, though only a few years since the ghost of the Bailey war horse made his last appearance in our legislative halls. The history, too, of the old war horse is not without some items of interest, as the claim incident upon his being foundered and subsequent death, formed for years after a sufficient subject to prolong the session of ninety days after every other pretence had been used up. ' ' Along the southern boundary of our State was a strip of land some ten miles wide, noted for its black ash swamps and magnificent bull frogs. In this strip was included we believe the present town of Toledo, and the deserted city of clapboards and shingles, on the Maumee below, (name forgotten at present.) This country was also somewhat celebrated in song, for we find, in the poetry of that country, that . ... ..j. " The potatoes they grow small in Maumee," And also the somewhat inconsistent assertion, that i. .n f The girls are fata hogs in Maumee.' i Over this interesting domain Michigan claimed poasesseion, and claiming, prepared to exercise it. Ohio as earnestly resist ed, then came the tug of war. From the' vallies of the Kalamazoo and the Grand River, the hardy pioneers hastened to join their brethern in the eastern part of the State to repel the Buckeye invader front the soil, or perish in the attempt. And a most formidable array soon stretched along;' the southern boundary. So near did the, opposing forces come, that they aotually crossed bayonets, and the foes drank each, other's health in good old Ohio from the same jug. Water melon patches and bea-roosts suffered beyond all precedent, and a faithful chronicler of the time assures us that at an unlucky game of poker one night a Major General of the Ohio militia was completely skinned by a fourth corporal of Michigau volunteers. ' ' i Of course such civil, or perhaps we should say uncivil commotion, could not-long escape the attention of the General Government, and accordingly the attention of Congress was early called to the unhap-' py relations existing upon the north-west frontier, and all their power was at once ' put forth to stay the tide of destruction where it was. They succeeded in effect-, f ing the settlement of difficulties something after this wise : Michigan was to release her hold upon tbe ten mile atrip which ' was to revert to Ohio, frogs, swamps,' Manhattan, Toledo, and all ; aud in turn she was to havs a vast tract of Territory ; commonly called the Upper Peninsula. No adequate idea, indeed no conception was at that time had of those vast mineral recourses which have placed Michigan ' among the first States of the world for inexhaustible mines of mineral wealth.- Indeed, the mammoth boulder of the Ontonagon had long been known to the trap-' per and voyager, and an Indian tradition1 told of bis hidden treasures,- bat like tna : pictures oa her rocks Superior's .treasures 1 were considered more of the fancy than . the reality. - The country then was under the government of the American Fur Company, and the Ohioans thought hs ' gallus trade" they got when they retained the frogs and we took the natives and unexplored wilds of ,the North. 4 . - "But now, what unexpected vision dawns.", American energy has tunneled the moun ' tain side, and the specific taxes paid ori' the capital of mining companies- alone almost support the State- Government -i Mountain upon mountain of iron piled up,, only awaits tbe labor of man ana investment of capital to yield richer return than' California or Goloonda's mines. ' '- "i No longer do the barriers ofnature interpose their obstacles to trade for humaaT industry lias overcome them all, and now far away oa that inland sea the white wings' of commerce are every where teen ; and on I. its vmotjt shore' a city to springing up' which in business and importance musti vie with its sitter City of Uuraita, i 6uch,i pensioners of tbe Toledo war,' are some of the fruits of your labor, tu-jh the resalta t of perils and dangers yon have undergone. ! Aakunatoo OamtCti. ; i . s i - How little do lovely women know what awfql beings they are in the eyes of an.' inexperienced youth , - Yonng men . bro't . Bp in the. fashionable circle of oureitif will smile at this. Aceuitomtd to mine's ( incessantly in female society, and to have i the romance of the heart deadened by a." thousand frivolous flirtations, wo-ri'n ar r nothing but women in a suieeptible yon'i Ii! Bp in tlii rmmVy, r iveo ; t t t t rv;s I-

OFFICE-Sonth-west end )" Kremlin Block, 2d floor, ' f, 'IF A FREE THOUGHT SEEK EXPRESSION, SPEAK IT ROLDLY---SPIAK IT ALL." TEajffS $2 GO per Annua. -V If paid in Advtnca, vol: 1 MOUNT VERNON, OHIO, TUESDAY. MORNING, AUGUST 7, 1855. NO, 38. THE MOUNT VERM REPUBLICAN EVERY TUESDAY MORNING, BY TBI i Rprmrilienn . Prlnflnflf fnmnnnv. ' Incorporated under tkt Genet al Law. TERMS. Tu Advance $3,60; within ix months, (3,25 ; after the expiration of nix month, 3,50; after the end of the year, $3 00. Subscriber in town, receiving their papers by carriert will be charged I2j cents additional. ,'. , Olubi often, $1,75 to be paid Invariably In ' advance.'-. All communicationi for the paper and bulled! letter should be add retted to THO. WITHROW, ' " ' ' Secretary of the Republican Printing Co. 1 m a Iffy lost Youth: Often I think of the beautiful town . That is seated by the sea ; Often in thought go up and down The pleasant streets of that dear old town, And my youth comes back to me. ' And a verse of a Lapland song ' Is haunting my memory still, "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts. I can see the shsdowy lines of its trees, 1-And catch, in sudden gleams, , The sheen of the far surrounding seas, And islands that were tho Hesperides Of all my boyish dreams. Aud the burden of that old song, ' It murmurs and whispers still : "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." I remember the black wharves and the slips, And the sea-tides tossing free ; And Spanish sailors witll bearded lips, A 'id the the beauty and mjstery of the ships, And the magic of the sea. And the voice of that wayward song 1 Is singing and saying still : " A boy s will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.', I remember the bulwarks by the shore, ' And the fort upon the hill ; The sunrise gun, with its hollow roar, 1 . The drum-beat repeated o'er and o'er, . . And the bugle wild and shrill. And music of that old song Throbs in my memory still ; "A boy's will is the wind's will, . , And the thoughts of youth are long, long ( thoughts- j ( , , 1 remember the sea fight far away, How it thundered o er the tide I : And the dead captains, as they lay ' .. In their graves, o'erlooking the tranquil bay, Where they in battle died. And the sound of that.monrnful song 1 - Goes through me with a thrill i . 1 A boy's will is the wind's will,-. And the thoughts of youth, are long, long ,. ; thoughts." ,, . J can see the breei'y dome of groves, i . . - The shadows of Deeriog's woods;-.- And the friendship old and 'he early loves-' Come back with a Sabbath sound, as of doves In quiet neighborhoods. And the verse of that sweet old song, It flutters and murmurs still: ' "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." , ! . I remember the gleams and glooms that dart Across the schoolboy's brain ; The song and the silence in the heart, ' That in part are prophecies, and in part Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song Sings on, and is never still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long . thoughts.". There are things of which 1 may not speak ; There are dreams that cannot die : There are thoughts that make the strong heart .weak,' . And bringing a pallor iuto the cheek, And a mist before the eye. And the words of that fatal song Come o'er mo like a chill . " A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughis." Strange to me now are the forms I meet When I visit the dear old town; . ' But the native air is pure and sweet, And the trees that o'ershadow each well-known street, ' As they balance up and down, . Are singing the beautiful song, Are sighing and whispering s'ill : . "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughis of youth are long, long thoughts." And Deeriog's Woods are fresh and fair, ... . And with joy that is almost pain .,, i My heart goes back to wander there, ' ; And among the dreams of the days that were, I find my lost youth again. - - - And the strange and beautiful song, -. i The groves are repeating it still 1 ' "A boy's will is the wind's will, ' And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts. i . Move On. The march of life should never stay All things should onward tend j ' Men should nut elog progression's way, : But strive to move and mend. . . The waters move in the depths of ocean, The streams along the dales, . ' And rivulets with onward motica, Through tweet and verdant vales i 1 . ,. . , Moveonl .. ' The clouds' move gently through the sky,L ' ' ' 1 The earth rolls ever on ; . " i Time swiftly in its course runs by, .' And years pass one by one. , Men, too, should strive to follow them, In this their onward way, . . , Permitting naught the tide to stem; 1 t But ever, day by day - . , --j ,lM j.; , ,'.; .. Moveonl ; .: J- f : ! ' 1 ! , Men may be wiser, if they strive-More virtuous if they will . " And who. witbfi this world, would thrive, ; Must aim at higher stUll - ,, , - Let bigots aland by dootrines old! ' The wise will pass tbetn by ; .' ' ' ' Weak minds may cling with subtle Bold," " But strong ones valiantly : - ' '' ,.:..;- ' Move on !,:. ' ' ' ,- .-,'. . '. ( n-u-.4 Like waters rolling tooths ocean, . r ?. Down mountain nilt on hiirh .' . . , Like clouds forever in commotion' ' ' That move across the sky ' u -1 We wilj forever onward press, , I t i. Thns fetterless and free : And deemhtg virtue, happiness; Our watchword ever be ' , ' ' ' "' vl'v ' -( '-' '( t r.i W. When piece of rood fortane b- falls me,' I inslanUy look for tie reverse cf tb medal.X'sitxy. -' ' ' ; . Th(j itjt Mftrriag: 'A group of girls were collected round tlie door of nn isba, or log-hut, in the village of Oorly, belonging; to General Pe trovioff. : They were all dressed in the national costume of the government of Toula, consisting of a long white gownover which they wore a plaid worsted tunic, short and narrow, while a low bodice, with narrow shoulder-straps, confined a loose puffed chemise. Their hair was cor ibed off the face in one long plait, from which hung a profusion of ribbons of all colors down their backs; a quantity of bright-colored glass beads hung on each side of their faces, and round their necks ; these formed the more ornamental items of their dress, iwhtch was otherwise 'only completed by a very tnica ana serviceaoie pair oi leatnern shoes. By the earnestness of th?ir gestures and the apparent interest of their conversation, it was very easy to see something unpleasant had lately occurred. After a little time, they all dispersed except two, who remained at the door of the hut spinning, belweett whom the following conversation took place : 1 ' ' " Nadeedn,' dost thou really bclievo the master will oblige one of us girls to marry that ugly, ill-tempered lellow, KttT What possible inducement is there? He pos sesses neither horse nor cow ; his isba is in the worst condition of any in the Village; and beside his own devilish propensities that are only safely to be encountered when one makes the holy sign and prays to St. Sergius he has his old witch of a grandmother, and his bedridden mother, for his wife to work and care for. No ; most cer tainly not one of us girls will consent to have him. " As to that, Katinka, thou sayest true ; but from what I heard my father say yes terday, the master is determined none of the strong hard-working lads are to be sent as soldiers ; and, as thou well knowest, while single they are all liable to be taken as recruits." " Tell me again," said the first speaker, " what said thy father. Unfortunately this news comes from good authority; who should know belter than the sarosta what is doing in the village ?" "I'll gladly tell thee all I know," re plied the sarosta's daughter. " Last night, when my lamer came borne, be tola us that Borisoff, the land-steward, had re ceived letters from our master, telling him that all the tamtly are coming here imme diately to spend a year. Owing to some severe losses sustained at cards, his excel lency comes down to live quiet and econo muse. Several oi the tree servants are discharged ; and for fear any of the good bands should be. taken by the recruiting party, be has sent orders they shall . all marry. .Now, Peter, the blacksmith, is be trothed to Nadine, and they will be glad enough to get the wedding over. Paul has received, the same orders; and I know more than one girl who would not refuse him. mi, Katioka, why blushest thou 7 " Hold thy nonsense, Nadegda, and finish thy story; this is no joking matter." "Well, the end is this, dusha mia (my soul.) As to the other lads, they are well enough off to buy themselves wives from the crown villages ; but who Kit will find I know not, for his teputation of casting the Evil Eye is well known hereabouts, and, besides, dreadful things are told of his family." ' " For Heaven's sake, do not talk more about him," said Katinka,' turning towards the church, and signing herself devoutly ; " I shall dread going to .sleep to night for fear of bad dreams. But thou, happy Nadegda, thou hast no fear of being forced to marry against thy will ; thy father, being the sarosta, will be able to screen thee ; but what say I ? Perhaps thou also lovest one of the lads now about to marry. Confess art thou also betrothed?" " Oh, Katinka, think not of it ; it would be no worse for me to marry Kit than any other lad in the village. I love yes ; but not one in my own station a free man. Dost thou remember Vladimir, the master's handsome Moscow coachman ? ' Well, he, God bless him 1 has promised to buy my freedom, and marry me. lie fore Aiadeg-da had well done speaking, her companion burst into a fit of laughter. "And art thou 'fool enough to believe mm. i -. w oy aid lie not marry tnee at once, instead of putting it off ?" . " Because my master asked a high price lor my.ireeaom, more than Vladimir then possessed," answered Nadecda : "'and al so because my father could not then give me tne aowry viaaimur required, for, re member, when I am his wife I shall no longer wear the village dress. I am to have I fur cloak, two silk dresses, besides a feather-bed and linen.' Father ha saved up three hundred roubles in money for us:" and as the young girl spoke, she drew herself up with all the pride of a serf about to oecome tree. '.i . : ' ' . . j :-.-. They bad caijelv resumed their snin ning-wheels, when the sound of post -bells in me distance reached their ears." Mou-jiks were running in all directions) crying, " Here comes the master 1" and aa the carriages approached nearer, they all uncovered their heads, and assisted to push the heavy equipages Bp the steep hill leading to the bouse ; several girls standing near also bowed (heir heads to the grodnd, saying, " Welcome, father and master. " Welcome, my mistresses, among your own people; : May the Lord bless your high nobility V' : t ,' i, l-, i f .' .; As the General descended, he bowed to all around, ' and extended his hand for those nearest him to kiss. The ladies stopped also to speak kindly to sons of the women and children,' and their hands were also covered with kisses.' As they passed into the house, thei peasant separated to their respective homes. Nadegda alone remained loitering about until late, but she had a companion who Stopped to talk; with her as he passed and repassed J nayt more, once was he actually seen to kiss her. '-The serf-girl was happy Vladimir, was Ve. ' r .y' - 'i i .7 I !r. (ti' The sarosta is an old peasant, of a somewhat sooerior station, nut nr th ntWi In -drive them tc their, work, and to see ths orders 5 the land-stswsrd punctually carried out., :, , That evening Borisoff was closeted for some hours with tbe Uenerai ; ana w Den he left him, the expression of his face was somewhat discomposed and ruffled. The subject of their conference will be learned in the seaiiel. ' Early the next morning,' Borisoff sent lor the sarosta, nadegda s lamer, ana, niter irlvinsr him orders for the day's work, addressed him thus : " Sarosta, bast thou attended to the orders I p-ave thee respect ing the young men's marriages, those named on his excellency's list ? If not, see to it without loss of time, for tby master baa had great losses, and needs all the good workmen ; and, what is more, his temper is not improved under the circumstances, and the lads will be worked all the harder, I promise thee." ' ' ' " Your honor will be pleased to hear," replied the old man, " that I have arranged that matter as well as possible. 'All the lads will be mated this week, except that surly fellow Kit, who, ns your honor knows, is no favorite in the village, and not one of the wenches will consent to have him. - Indeed, I pity the poor thing who would have to wait upon his old folks, who are no better than they should be, if all ia true that one bears." - " As to that, sarosta, thou must arrange it as best thou canst ; it is as much as my place is worth to tell tbe General his commands have not been obeyed. ' Remember, thou hast now received the order, and it rests entirely with thee. Hast thou held out any reward to the girls ? Or, if that does not have the desired effect, hast thou promised tbem a flogging all round ? See what that would do." "I fear, your honor," resumed the sarosta, "it would be of no avail ; for it is the belief of them all that Kit throws the Evil Eye, and even the little children run and hide from him as he comes up the village. However, I will certainly do my best." . On their return from work, the sarosta assembled all the girls, and tried in vain the powers of persuasion and threatenings. Kit was supposed to have something devilish about him ; and as the sarosta himself shared in the superstition, he determined to lay the case befoie his master, although not without fear of the consequences. The next morning, as the General sat in his elegantly furnished study, smoking a troupkat, the sarosta was announced.- General Petrovioff ordered him to be ad mit'ed immediately. The old man entered, and, first turning to the picture hanging in the room, crossed himself devoutly, then bowed low to his master. Tbe General returned the salutation, and then bade him make known his business, " Your high nobiiity deigned to order, a day or two ago, that certain of your peas ants were to marry, on account of recruits being taken this summer. - Your excellen cv's commands have been obeyed in all re specls save one, for -which -I humbly beg pardon. Kit, as your excellency doubtless remembers, was always a strange surly fel low." " But a good and steady workman," in terrupted the master. Tbe sarosta proceeded : " None of the wenches relish the idea of being his wife ; and, indeed, to be plain with your high nobility, they one and all refuse to have anything to do with him. Perhaps your excellency would be pleased to countermand the order, and let him join the recruiting party. The whole village would rejoice to be rid of him." " Old fool 1" exclaimed the Uenerai, '' Dost thou think I am going to part with one of my best hands because you ignorant dogs think he is bewitched ? Since when have the sluts dared to have a will of their own ? It is high time, indeed, I come among you, to teach you your master's authority I Go, old dog ; I'll see be gets a wife. The she-devils shall draw lots for him, and thy daughter into Ihe bargain, to punish thee for thy disobedience ; and think thyself well off that I send not for a bundle of rods for thee, ' Begone, dog, or I will strike thee to tbe earth?" So raved the General in his anger at being thwarted ; the old sarosta, trembling' and silent, bowed and left the room. ' Borisoff, the land-steward, Vas next sent for. and ordered to collect, the next morn ing, all the girls above the age of eighteen. " And mind," added the general, " they are all forthcoming the more the merrier. It will be quite an event in the village, drawing lots for a husband." At the hour specified next day, all the maidens were to be seen slowly making their way to the house.' The sarosta had hard work to make them advance, for they were all more or less terrified at the idea of Kit falling to their share But none of them looked so pale as poor Nadegda ; only the night before, everything had been settled for the nurchase of her freedom. She reilly loved Vladimir, and was beloved by him. Occasionally, she raised her eyes lose if she could catch sight of him ; but he, poor fellow, was not there ; although free nimseu, ne a area not to aispute me ngots of the slaveholder. , .- In rain did the sarosta expostulate, and try to console the poor girl by telling her now many cnances mere were in ner laror ; but Nrfdegda seemed to be weighed down by a presentiment of evil, and cried bitter ly i " Ob I why was I born ? Oh I why did I not die before this hour of misery ?" As they approached, the General stepped out, upon the balcony, followed by the wretched and unpopular Kit. , No sooner did they perceive the latter than tbe girls began calling him every horrid name they could , think of j but Nadegda she had fainted. , . They were placed in rows in front of the balcony, and tlornou presented tbe General with a batoontaing the fifty pieces or paper, amongst which was the one with the fatal cross marked on iu The General stood on the steps of the balcony, and, desiring that none should open her paper until tbe hit was emptied, the ceremony began. , One by one, the, trembling girls made the sign, of the cross,, then thrust in her hand and drew out a paper. . All were taken, one only remained, and Nadegda alone was left to take it; she approached, faintly and feebly, supported by her father.' 'But while in the. act of extending her hand to draw the lot, her father btigan to speak.'1 "Silence r roared the Gener.l, "Un fold your papers," .. AS they did so, they scrtsmed with de; ' light ' " It Is not I P' It is not 1 1" and threw themselves with their faces on the ground, to thank the saints for their protection. , In the midst of this general re-joioing, a piercing shriek was heard which made them all slmddcr ; it came from the unfortunate Nadegda. She had drawn the fatal cross a cross which must be borne, as such washe will of her. earthly master.' " ' ' ',. She threw henelf at the General's feet, and in most imploring acoents besought him ! "Father have mercy upon mel Master, do with me what thou wilt ; make me work night, and day ; put me in the meanest office ; and I . will not complain : but I cannot marry hira I" and she pointed to Kit. " Beat me, master; kill me if you will, and 1 would thank you on my knees ; but think of . what you re doing. Remem ber, ,1 am '.y Betrothed, she would have added; but the general roared out with rage : " Take ber away I take ber away I" And turning to the sarosta : " Teach your daughter to behave herself in future, and not to have such high-flown ideas. Mind, I will have the wedding over by to-night." So saying, he turned away ; the old man lifted up bis fair daughter in his arms and carried her away without a word ; he dared not remonstrate or revolt. The same evening, Nadegda heretofore the pride and beauty of the village, but now pale, cold and automaton-like was married to Kit, the general himself witnessing the ceremony. When it was over, he turned to the husband : " Well, my lad, if the girls would not have thee of their own tree will, thou mayest at least thank thy master ' for theprettiest lass- in the whole village." There was no merry-making at that wedding; the peasants returned to their homes with beavy and resentful hearts , but not one slept that bight until they had implored the blessings ot the saints on the untortunate JNadegda. that day-week, the general took a drive through his domains. The driver, as usu al, was Vladimir, the Moscow coachman, a man so skilled in bis business, so careful, so conscientious, that when the reins were in his hands such a thing as an accident was unknown. Un that day, tbe disap pointed bridegroom, it may be supposed, was not exactly as happy as when talking to poor Nadegda about their marriage. At any rate, it was noticed that he was death ly pale, and that his features had a hard, rigid, stony look; but perhaps this was fancy. - It may be that his feelings were not the more agreeable from the sight of Kit s isba as be drove past, and from the pale, woe be gone face in the interior that at the view flittted across his imagination like a spectre.' Whether this spectre con tinued to haunt him during the drive, and to glide and float above the horses' heads so as to dazzle and mislead his vision, no man knows. The only thing that is cer tain is, mat tbe carriage was. upset, and the general, with some difficulty extricated from the shattered veliicle, mortally hurt. He survived only a few hours, and then he died in great agony. Just before he breathed his last he murmured : " He has cast the Evil Eye on me ;" but no one understood what he meant. Chambers' $ Journal. ' The West Point Chain. Bishop's derrick has been employed for some time past in attempts to recover the massive chain which was stretched across tbe Hudson river at West Point, during the Revolution, to prevent the passage of tsriiisti vessels above that place. The Newsburgh Telegraph contains an article showing what are the results attained. It says : , Two distinct chain impediments were thrown across the river ; the first being a simple massive chain which was placed across the river in the vicinity of Fort Mon-gomery before the passage of the British fleet up the river, and which was broken and recovered ; ana tne second chains of different construction which were placed at West Point after the return of the British fleet, and through which a passage was never subsequently attempted, The history of these chains is somewhat obscured ', but the success which has attended the operations of Bishop's derrick, has discovered some interesting facts on the subject. The first thing raised from the bottom of the river by.tbe derrick was a portion of the chains and floats composing the last obstruction, embracing nine of the massive links and connections, and two of the floats to which Ihe chain was attach ed. This recovery shows the precise man ner of the construction of this chain ob struclion, which hns never been historically written. The obstruction consisted of two chains across the river, connected with the bank by four other massive chains, two on each side. Tbe chains across the river were supported by logs or floats about two feet in diameter and nineteen feet long, with three links of the chain at each end, between the floats. A rope ladder present the idea of the manner in which-the ob struction was made, better, probably, than any thing else. The Weight of the chains must have been immense, a the links now, although the action of the water for seventy years has corroded and worn them away, are about two inches square in the bars. The links are about 18 inches long and 8 inches broad, and are secured to the floats by heavy iron collars around the ends. The weight, of the Chains the historical idea is chain mut have been something like 150,000 pounds, independent of the floats. . This calculation is based on the statement of Mr. 8imms, above referred to, that each link averaged 1021 lbs., and that 1,700 feet of chain would be required'at each end of the floats. , ; .,i -. r The prospect of recovering any consid erable portion of the chains is tot very flattering, . The portion bow recovered was close in shore, but the great depth of water id tbe channel, (180 feet,) weald seem to render further efforts useless.-. . The portions of the. chains and floats re covered have been purchased by Mr. Carter, and deposited in. ths Head Quarters House, where tbey may be examined. They are the greatest cunosities which we have ever bad brought to our attention.! A Short BUry with a Moral, ... ' BT BLUM 0. H0BBS. v ' " Honor thy father and thy mother," ii the first commandment with promise- promise as beautifil in Its exemplification as glorious in its conception. A mother's lips first breathed iito our ears these words of Holy Writ, and explained their general import ; and from the time when the story of gray-haired Elijah and his youth- iui mockers erst eiolted my imagination, the respect then inspired for the white hairs of age, has grown with my growth and strengthened with my strength. We sigh as we think of the days when the young were wont to bow before the hoary head, and by gentle, uncalled-for assiduities, strew roses in the old man't'tottering pain. ( i .- . l ' But these kindly customs of our Puri tan ancestors have passed away. The world grows selfish as it grows old : and age-dimmed eyes must turn homeward for stays to their trembling hands and tottering limbs. Here they should find the ful filment of the first commandment with promt:. ' No true, womanly soul,1 ever withdrew her gentle hand from her poor old father, or mother ; no manly heart ever forgot the hoine loves of his wayward childhood, or ceased tc hear the echoes of a fond mother's Sprayers. Often the cares of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, may choke up the inborn affections of narrow souls ; but few and far between is the fondly loved child, who can be so untrue to himself or his Maker, as wholly to forget the mother who bore him. 1 Yet even with the holiest dictates of our reasons and souls, as with the wider ap plication of tbe commandment, bas Fashion insinuated her poisonous' influence ; and the son, per chance, who left his fond parent's humble home reluctantly and tearfully, to make bis way in the world, forgets, when fortune favors, to welcom, his rustic mother to his own luxury, with the same cordial embrace with which he left her in his childhood home. Her dim old eyes, perchance, do not catch readily the meaningless courtesies of life, nevertheless, they look none the less lovingly upon her child than when they watched over his helpless infancy. Her withered hands may be large and bony, and never have known a jewel ; but none the less gently did they smooth the weary pillow, or bathe the heated brow, in the dependent days of boyhood. Ah I she's the same fond mother still; her age and work-bent form, clad in rustic garb, conceals a heart full of never dying love, and ready for a new sacrifice. , And, thanks to the Great Being who gave us the commandment with promise, now and then there stands up a noble man, true to his inborn nature, who, throwing off the trammels of Fashion, however wide the gulf which separates him, in the world's eye, from the humble poverty of his boyhood who is not ashamed to love, before his fellows, the humble mother who gave him birth. . ,. " My Mother, permit me to present her to you," said an elegantly-dressed, noble-looking young man, to a friend, for whom he had crossed a erowded drawing room, with his aged parent leaning on his arm. There was a : dead silence for full five minutes. The moral beauty of the picture pervaded every soul, and melted away the frost-work from world-worn hearts. 'Twas the old foreground of a fashionable summer resort, whither hosts had come, with all their selfish passions, to seek in vain for health and pleasure. But here was a variation a bit of truth to nature in the motley mingling of colors. ' From a little brown farm-house, pentijin by forests, away up in the Granite State, the .young man had gone forth, with brave heart and stalwart arm ; strong, like his native hills, he had already made a name for himself. Polished circles opened for him, and gentle lips bade him welcome. Yet none the less carefully did his manly arm support his homely, (ottering old mother ; none the less softly and tenderly did he call her, queer though she looked, "my mother," amongst the proud beauties who had striven for his favor. Her dress was antiquated, for the good gifts of her son had been mutilated by rustic hands ; yet only one heartless girl tittered, despite the broad frilled cap and well-kept shawl. Her voice was rough, and often her ex pressions coarse and inelegant. Used to, the social mug at home, she asked for her neighbor's goblet at table, and was guilty of many like vulgarities. She was not an interesting woman, save in her vigorous age, and her beautiful , love 'for her son. -Yet, for a week, the son watched over that mother, and gained, for her kindness and deference, in the very face of fashion; walked with her, drove - with her, helped her, like an infant, up a difficult mountain side of twenty miles, humored her every caprice, and each day found some new friend, whose heart he might thrill by those gentle words, " my mother." To him she was the gentle mother, who rocked hira to sleep in childhood ; and true to the great commandment she had taught him, he was making ths path smooth for her dependent years. .. On there was in the gay throng, whose eyes flashed haughtily, as they rested on the homely, toil-worn woman, but she was a noble soul, and truth and right gained an instant victory over life long prejudices. Quietly and elegantly he orossed the room, laid ber snowy hand,, with such a gentle, thrilling touoli, on the arm of her lover, and'whispered a word in his ear. . Will she ever forget the look of love-triumph in his eyes, or the smiling gentleness of his tones, as he presented his beautiful, high-bred betrothed, to his gray-haired, doting mother ? 'Twas a holy sight that of polished, glowing beauty, grasping the hand of wrinkled, homely, When rammer and summer guests had gone many a one remembered and watched that young man, whose filial devotion had in it amoral sublimity, i And surely to him the eommandment proved with promise.- 7rA rapid mind continually struggles the feeble one limps, bat a great mind se lects the surest points, and upon these it stands.--Aotlay. , (. . , , . 0tlect iltisccllanii. ; The Old Charon-Yard Tree. : There is an old yew tree whioh stands by the wall in a dark, quiet corner of a church-yard. And a child was at play beneath its wide-spreading brandies, one bne day in the early spring. He had his lap full of flowers, whioh the fields and lanes had supplied hira with, and be was humming a tune to himself as he wove them into garlands. And a little girl at play among the tomb stones crept near to listen ; but the boy was so intent upon his garland, that he did not hear the gentle footsteps, as they tread softly over the fresh green grass. When his work was finished,- and tail the flowes that were in his lap were woven together in one long wreath, ha started up to measure its length upon the ground, and then he saw the little girl as she stood with ber eyes fixed upon him. He did not speak ; but thought to himself that she looked very beautiful, ns she stood there with her flaxen ringlets hanging upon her neck. The little girl was so startled by this sudden movement, that she let fall all the flowers she had colleoted in her apron, and ran away as fast as she could. But the boy was older and taller than she, and soon caught her, and coaxed her W come back and play with him, and help him to make some garlands ; and from that time they raw each other nearly every day, and became great friends. Twenty years passed away. Again he was seated beneath the old yew tree in the church-yard. It was summer now ; bright beautiful summer, with the birds singing, and the flowers covering the ground, tfud scenting tbe air with their pertume. But be was not alone now, nor din the little girl steal near on tiptoes, fearful of being beard, bbe was seated by bis side, and his arm was around her and she look ed up into his face, and smiled, as she whispered, " the first evening of our lives we were ever together was passed here ; we will spend the first evening of our wed ded life in the same quiet, happy place." And she drew closer to him as she spoke. The summer is gone ; and the autumn ; and twenty more summers and autumns have passed away since that evening, in the old church-yard. A young man on a bright moonlight night, comes reeling through the little while gate, and stumbling over the graves. He shouts, and h6 sings, and is presently fol lowed by others like unte bimself or worse. So they all laughed at the dark solemn head of the yew tree, and threw stones up at the place where the moon has silvered the boughs. Those same boughs are again silvered by the moon, and they droop over the mother's grave. There is a little stone whioh bears this inscription : ' . " HSB HBART BBOKB IH SILENCE." But the silence of the churoh-yard is now broken by a voice not one of the youth nor a voice of laughter and ribaldry. , " My son I dost thou see this grave ? and dost thou read the record in anguish, whereof may come repentance ?" " Of what should I repent ?" answered the son ; " and why should my young ambition for fame relax in its strength because my mother was old and weak ?" " Is this indeed our son ?" says the father, bending in agony over the grave of his beloved. ' ' ' " I can well believe I am not," exclaim-eth the youth. " It is well that you have brought me here to say so. Our natures are unlike ; our courses must be opposite. Your way lieth here mine yonder !" So the son left the father kneeling by the grave. Again a few years have passed. It is winter, with a roaring wind and a thick heavy fog. The graves in the church-yard are covered with snow, and there are great icicles in the church-porch. The wind now carries a swath of snow along the tops of the graves, as though the " sheeted dead" were at some melancholy play : and hark t the icicles fall with a crash and jin gle, like a solemn mockery of the echo of tbe unseemly mirth ot one who is now coming to his final rest. ' There are two graves near the old yew tree and the grass has overgrown them. A third is close by ; and the dark earth' at each side has just been thrown up. The bearers come ; with a heavy pace they move alon; the coffin heaveth up and down, as tbey step over the intervening graves. ;-.r.r : . -'J, .1 ; Grief and old ago had seised upon the father, and worn-out his life ; and premature decay soon seised upon the son, and gnawed away his vain ambition,, and his useless strength, till be prayed to be borne. not the way yonder that n most opposite to his father and mother, but even the same way they had gone the way which leads to tbe Uld Uhurch. yard Tree. Dick tn'i Iloutthold Word. Ihoividuai, Rbspobsibilitt. The moment a man parts with moral independence the moment he judges of duty, not from the inward voice, but from the interest and will of party, the moment he commits bimself to a . leader or a body, and winks at evil because divisions would hurt the cause, the moment he shakes off his particular responsibility, because he is but one of a thousand or a million, by whom the evil is done that moment he parts with his moral power. ' He is shorn of the energy of siugle-hearted faith in the right and the true. He hopes from nan's policy what nothing but loyalty to God can accomplish; He substitutes coarse weapons, forged by man's wisdom, for celestial power.-Chan- a7- .'i -v ' v'-! i , ' 1 . - i .... It is stated, as a curious fact, that th Queen of England is, now the terr-pora' monarch of more Roman Catholics than the Pope, and of more Musulmen than the Porte. . , , - ; ., - 'Watch, Kether." ". , ' -V ' Bother! watch the little feet ,; "'' " ' Climbing o'er th gsrdon wall, Bounding through the busy street, '' Banging cellar, shed, and ball, ' - 1 ' Sever count the moments loet, ' Vever mind the time it eoats ; '", ''' 1 Little feet will go astray. Guide then, mother, while you miy, Mother 1 watch the little a-smd Picking berries by tbe way, '' " Making bosses rn tbe sand, Tossing sp the fragrant hay. " ' Never dare the question ask, ri-" Why to nte this weary task't" '' ' These same little sands may prove Messengers of light and love, .; Mother I watch- the little tongue Prattling eloquent and wild, ' -'' ' Wbat ia said, and what is sung, ' -' ' By the happy, jwyousehild. " -CR(ch the word, white yet unspoken, - fttop the vow before 'tis broken ;-This same tongue nay yet proolainf ;t ' ' Bleasings in a Saviour's name. , , - 6. ....... . .... ., ,,(' Mother T watch the little heart " Beatinssoft and warm for you ; ' ' 1 Wholesome lessons now impart, ! ' Keep, 0 keep, that young heart trow. Extricating every weid, Sowing good and preeions seed j '.-Harvest rich too then may aee. Ripening for eternity.' - i-Heme Journal. ... The Toledo War. Among the remembrances of the past which the old settlers delight to recite to the rising generation, the most pleasing of them all is the history of the Toledo War. Probably no contest so bloodless in its results has ever secured for State such important advantages as did that violent war of words. Anc yet by most the recollection of it is gone, though only a few years since the ghost of the Bailey war horse made his last appearance in our legislative halls. The history, too, of the old war horse is not without some items of interest, as the claim incident upon his being foundered and subsequent death, formed for years after a sufficient subject to prolong the session of ninety days after every other pretence had been used up. ' ' Along the southern boundary of our State was a strip of land some ten miles wide, noted for its black ash swamps and magnificent bull frogs. In this strip was included we believe the present town of Toledo, and the deserted city of clapboards and shingles, on the Maumee below, (name forgotten at present.) This country was also somewhat celebrated in song, for we find, in the poetry of that country, that . ... ..j. " The potatoes they grow small in Maumee," And also the somewhat inconsistent assertion, that i. .n f The girls are fata hogs in Maumee.' i Over this interesting domain Michigan claimed poasesseion, and claiming, prepared to exercise it. Ohio as earnestly resist ed, then came the tug of war. From the' vallies of the Kalamazoo and the Grand River, the hardy pioneers hastened to join their brethern in the eastern part of the State to repel the Buckeye invader front the soil, or perish in the attempt. And a most formidable array soon stretched along;' the southern boundary. So near did the, opposing forces come, that they aotually crossed bayonets, and the foes drank each, other's health in good old Ohio from the same jug. Water melon patches and bea-roosts suffered beyond all precedent, and a faithful chronicler of the time assures us that at an unlucky game of poker one night a Major General of the Ohio militia was completely skinned by a fourth corporal of Michigau volunteers. ' ' i Of course such civil, or perhaps we should say uncivil commotion, could not-long escape the attention of the General Government, and accordingly the attention of Congress was early called to the unhap-' py relations existing upon the north-west frontier, and all their power was at once ' put forth to stay the tide of destruction where it was. They succeeded in effect-, f ing the settlement of difficulties something after this wise : Michigan was to release her hold upon tbe ten mile atrip which ' was to revert to Ohio, frogs, swamps,' Manhattan, Toledo, and all ; aud in turn she was to havs a vast tract of Territory ; commonly called the Upper Peninsula. No adequate idea, indeed no conception was at that time had of those vast mineral recourses which have placed Michigan ' among the first States of the world for inexhaustible mines of mineral wealth.- Indeed, the mammoth boulder of the Ontonagon had long been known to the trap-' per and voyager, and an Indian tradition1 told of bis hidden treasures,- bat like tna : pictures oa her rocks Superior's .treasures 1 were considered more of the fancy than . the reality. - The country then was under the government of the American Fur Company, and the Ohioans thought hs ' gallus trade" they got when they retained the frogs and we took the natives and unexplored wilds of ,the North. 4 . - "But now, what unexpected vision dawns.", American energy has tunneled the moun ' tain side, and the specific taxes paid ori' the capital of mining companies- alone almost support the State- Government -i Mountain upon mountain of iron piled up,, only awaits tbe labor of man ana investment of capital to yield richer return than' California or Goloonda's mines. ' '- "i No longer do the barriers ofnature interpose their obstacles to trade for humaaT industry lias overcome them all, and now far away oa that inland sea the white wings' of commerce are every where teen ; and on I. its vmotjt shore' a city to springing up' which in business and importance musti vie with its sitter City of Uuraita, i 6uch,i pensioners of tbe Toledo war,' are some of the fruits of your labor, tu-jh the resalta t of perils and dangers yon have undergone. ! Aakunatoo OamtCti. ; i . s i - How little do lovely women know what awfql beings they are in the eyes of an.' inexperienced youth , - Yonng men . bro't . Bp in the. fashionable circle of oureitif will smile at this. Aceuitomtd to mine's ( incessantly in female society, and to have i the romance of the heart deadened by a." thousand frivolous flirtations, wo-ri'n ar r nothing but women in a suieeptible yon'i Ii! Bp in tlii rmmVy, r iveo ; t t t t rv;s I-